Archive for July, 2011

When I was in high school, I was completely unaware of the fact that I could refuse to have sex.

This may be partly because of my horrible relationship with Dr. Asshole, who I was quite simply not allowed to say no to, but it seriously just never occurred to me that if I liked a boy and wanted to go on a date with him or make out with him or whathaveyou, that if things got to a point that I was uncomfortable with that I could say “Stop.” That just…wasn’t a thing that happened. and I remember getting ready for dates and steeling myself for the possibility of having to do things I didn’t really want to.

It was pretty awful, and I’m glad no one actually tried to push my limits, because I would not have known what to do at all.

This also made figuring out who I was attracted to difficult. Part of the reason I couldn’t hook up with girls was because I didn’t want to hook up with all the girls, and I didn’t really realize that I could say no to people. I kind of thought that once I was in a vulnerable position with someone that some sort of sex was inevitable, and that if people found out I was into girls I would have no reasonable excuse not to make out/hook up/have sex with people I wasn’t attracted to. And so I thought the only way to avoid doing things I didn’t want to all the time was to only have sex in relationships.

Thank god I eventually figured out that none of this was true. I spent three years not really dating anyone. I bought a vibrator and learned how to get myself off. I read the entire archives of Savage Love and Control Tower. I figured out a lot of things about sex and about myself.

Roderick also deserves some of the credit, for not being a huge douche when we first started dating and listening and talking about things.

But here’s the thing…I worry that this is something a lot of people don’t figure out on their own. And really, this is one of the approximately six billion reasons why I think everyone should talk about sex more–so that you can find out that things like this are not the norm. We (as a culture) also need to have more conversations about continuous and enthusiastic consent and active participation. Sex should never be something that just happens to you unless you want it to be.

This still occasionally comes up for me. It was kind of awful navigating the BDSM scene in the beginning, largely because I kept approaching situations from a “why not?” sort of place and not a “why should I?” one. I played with some people I didn’t really have much interest in or chemistry with, partly because I didn’t know how to turn them down. Seriously, I didn’t actually start having good interactions in the scene until I learned a) that I could say “no thank you,” b) that if someone was a jerk to me because I said “no thank you,” it meant that they were, well, a jerk, and c) I started playing just with people I had actual chemistry with and wanted to play with.

I realize this is such a basic thing, and I know there are people probably reading this and wondering why I would waste a post on something so basic, but I figure if I went so long without figuring this out it must be something people need to talk about more. So here I am, talking about it. Learning how to turn people down is seriously one of the most important things you can do for your sex life.

So I worked for, like, 10 hours yesterday and I’m working tonight and tomorrow and when I finally got home last night Roderick was out and I texted Garnet and she had her own stuff going on (I am often surprised when I am not the center of everyone’s universe, I’m a self-centered asshole, I know) and I felt kind of lonely and down. And I’ve generally been feeling kind of crappy this week (oh, hi, PMS, are you back already?) and “crappy” for me seems to unfailingly register as unattractive and lonely and ignored, even when these feelings make no sense at all in relation to the real world.

I woke up this morning, not having gotten as much sleep as I wanted, and I still felt pretty awful, and Roderick tried to give me hugs and I didn’t feel any different and I wanted to do something fairly drastic like bang my head against the wall or delete my FetLife profile since apparently all my self-destructive urges have started popping up in the form of deleting social networking things. I already deleted my profile information and most of my pictures, which is kind of ridiculous and embarrassing. I just get so completely, irrationally sad and upset and I really just don’t know what to do with it.

But now I’ve been awake for a bit, and up and moving around, and I’ve read some stuff on the internet instead of staring at the walls and thinking about how awful I feel with occasional breaks to post about it on twitter. And I talked to Garnet a bit (and it’s really nice to have somebody say, in response to my ludicrous self-deprecation, that I just don’t get to decide things like that) and I remembered that I haven’t eaten yet and I’m hypoglycemic so maybe I should eat…and suddenly it’s not all so insurmountable. I can deal with this. I still don’t feel all that terrific, but I at least feel like it’s all manageable.

I’m trying to remember that there are awesome things. I have bellydancing class this Sunday, I’m re-reading a book I really love (a book that is so ridiculously hot that I get awkwardly aroused on the subway), and, of course, I have two amazing partners who love me. So someone please point me back at this post when I inevitably start feeling like this again next month.

I’ve also written so much about vampires and my being into them that I’m not sure I have anything new to say on the subject.My first crush, at age 9, was on Bela Lugosi. The film version of Interview With the Vampire was largely responsible for many of my first sexual feelings, and that’s before I even saw the whole thing–the commercials for the movie were so fascinating to me that I would spend whole days hoping to catch one on TV. I actually read Dracula for the first time when I was 12…and the ideas of blood and pain and swoony servitude got inextricably tied up with sex in my brain. I think between Catholicism and vampires there wasn’t any way I could not be kinky.

I like to think that, had Twilight out when I was young enough to be in its target market that I still would’ve had the good taste to avoid it. Even when I was an 11-year-old hungrily sucking down the entire Vampire Diaries quartet in under a week, or a 12-year-old sneakily reading Interview With the Vampire and hiding it under the bed, bloodless, guilty, angsty vampires like Louis and Stefan annoyed me and held no allure whatsoever. I wanted to be a haughty, powerful, badass. I wanted to be someone nobody would mess with, not the stuck-up rich girls at my private school or the high school boys in my lower-middle-class neighborhood who started street harassing me when I was in 7th grade. I wanted to be an awesome female vampire.

It wasn’t until later that I really got into the victim thing. I was much more conscious of it by early high school, wanting to be bitten, to be taken. To be deemed special and worthy of this other life and to suffer exquisitely to attain it. I tried to talk to my horrible high school boyfriend (henceforth known as Dr. Asshole) and he dismissed my first inklings of thinking I might be sexually submissive immediately. He decided he was a psychic vampire, and that I was, too (which is pretty hilarious, really, when you consider how draining I often find being around other people). I remember telling him “I really don’t think I am, I think I just like biting and blood, y’know…sexually.”

I kind of can’t believe I had that much self-awareness at 16. Of course, Dr. Asshole ignored me, steamrolled over my attempt to actually say what I wanted, shut me down. And when someone stole his super seekrit notebook of correspondence between our “vampire family” and left it where the high school administrators would find it, and we almost got expelled (hooray for Catholic school), and I had to deal with the profound humiliation of letting my parents read the hideously sappy notes I’d passed him between classes…well, my self-awareness and realization got lost in the shuffle.

I managed to tell the next two guys I dated that I liked being bitten, but it wasn’t until Roderick and I got together shortly after my 23rd birthday that things really clicked into place. And while I work hard to not be ashamed of my kinks, the hardest one for me to be okay with sometimes is the one that I know the most about, the vampire thing. I’m embarrassed and nervous and worried people will think I’m ridiculous or unbalanced because of it. It was such a source of weirdness and shame for me for so long that this whole teen-vampire-romance craze really confuses me sometimes. I grew up in the era of the Vampire Clan Murders, the time of Columbine, when goths and self-proclaimed vampires were looked at as not just weird but threatening. I feel like I’ve spent more than half my life defending this interest and it’s entirely bizarre that I don’t need to anymore.

A few months ago, I stopping in Rite Aid to pick up nail polish or eye liner or something vain and silly. It was seriously just a few months ago, May or early June, not anywhere near Halloween. And when I was at the register, I happened to glance to my right and there, displayed next to the novelty plastic gold teeth and the silly bands, were packages of crappy, cheap vampire fangs. And I paid for my make-up, but in my head I was completely blown away–the vampire trend was such a big thing that they were selling plastic fangs, bad Scarecrow knockoffs, at the drug store, in the middle of the Spring.

And that was when, all of a sudden, I realized that there is seriously nothing wrong with being into vampires.

I realize that, as revelations go, this does not sound like a big one. But keep in mind, this was an interest that I’d been discouraged from by every adult in my life, almost been expelled from two schools over, and so on and so forth. An interest that is now so normal it’s a huge pop culture phenomenon.

I seriously hope that everyone out there experiences a moment of revelation like this about their “weirdest” kink.

Some of you, the people out there who read this blog but don’t go to fetish parties (hi, friends from middle school!) are unfamiliar with the phenomenon of the creepy foot dude. Creepy foot dudes are the guys who go around the party offering any woman in sight a foot massage. Often, if their offer is accepted, they proceed to give an inept foot rub/slobber all over the recipient’s feet/try to grope the recipient. Also, all of this often happens without asking the recipient’s name, let alone “Hey, is it okay if I drool all over your feet?” Not all dudes with foot fetishes are creepy. I actually once got a really great foot massage from a guy Roderick and I had been chatting with at a party for, like, half an hour before he mentioned he likes being a human foot stool for couples. But creepy foot dudes are kind of a fetish party trope.

I was not always into feet. For me, it started with boots. In fact, it started with one tiny video clip from Two Big Meanies (this is a porn site, proceed with caution) of Russell making Sadee kiss his boots. I had never really thought about boots beyond the fact that they look awesome before, but something about this video flipped a switch in my brain. From that point forward, I was begging Roderick to let me kiss his boots, trying to learn more about boot blacking, and becoming wildly turned on by him stepping on my chest while wearing his stompiest boots. I would even catch myself checking out boots on strangers on the subway.

I also really like being on the floor, below someone. I like sitting on the floor at Roderick or Garnet’s feet, I like sleeping on the floor while they get the bed, I like belonging on the floor. And giving a foot rub gives me a really great opportunity to be on the floor, looking up at the recipient, and feel like I’m doing something for them. So I started every now and then rubbing Roderick’s feet, just when he asked me to, maybe every few months. And Garnet wants foot rubs far more often, and providing them makes me blissfully happy and wildly turned on, so it’s kind of a win-win situation.

All of this is how I ended up on the floor this past Sunday, rubbing Garnet’s feet. Her feet, much like the rest of her, are completely lovely. I asked if I could kiss them, and she gave me permission, and, well, I also like doing things with my mouth so kissing quickly turned into licking which inevitably turned into sucking on her toes at which point there really wasn’t anything else I could do but start to wonder how much of her foot would fit in my mouth. Quite a lot, it turns out. Did I mention that Garnet is turned on by gagging noises? I got her foot far enough in my mouth to gag on it a little, until I was drooling a bit and there were tears in my eyes. It was wonderful and fulfilling and it was apparent that she was really enjoying it and they whole thing was really just incredibly sexy.

So yeah, I like feet. Kind of a lot. But even more, I like the feeling of connection I get from looking up and seeing Garnet’s reactions, and how her skin feels, and just knowing that she enjoys what I’m doing.

I actually do try not to be a creeper about the foot thing. I have once given a drunken foot massage without asking if it was okay with the recipient, and I feel like kind of a jackass about that. I try to ask, even if I’m rubbing Garnet’s feet (and Garnet is probably the only person I’ll be giving foot rubs to anytime soon) before I get my mouth involved. The “creepy foot dude thing” is actually kind of a joke. I don’t want to be one of those women who does something uncomfortable and then says “Teehee! I can get away with that because I’m a girl!” Consent is important, even if you’re a submissive, even if you’re a woman. And you can be a foot dude without being creepy.

I’m femme-y, and submissive, and a bottom-type-person in almost every way, but the act of strapping on a cock and fucking someone with it is really, really hot for me. I’ve only done it twice, but both times I was so completely, wildly turned on I very nearly came just from the friction of rubbing against the harness. It’s amazing.

The thing is, there’s this thing about penetration–this huge, cultural thing, where it’s often taken as a given that being penetrated is automatically feminine and soft and weak and less than being the penetrator. There’s a part in a David Sedaris essay that I find both hilarious and sad where he’s outed as gay to a drug dealer in the North Carolina woods, and the dealer’s wife asks “‘Which one of you is the woman?’” Sedaris replies “‘Well, neither of us…That’s what makes us a homosexual couple. We’re both guys.’” When I first heard him read this story live, I laughed so hard I almost literally fell out of my seat. Now, years later, reading the whole essay (“All the Beauty You Will Ever Need,” in his book When You Are Engulfed in Flames) I realize that this is a question about penetration stuck in the middle of an essay all about gender. ”Which one of you is the woman?” is, in fact, code for “Which one of you gets fucked?”

I kind of hate this idea. Don’t get me wrong, I love being fucked. Being penetrated and filled up and explored from the inside is an awesome, sexy feeling for me. But I also like doing the penetrating, and the idea that this is somehow wrong or incompatible with my identity as a submissive femme bothers me a lot. It also bothers me on behalf of dominant women, who are often expected to never want to be the receiving partner in penetrative sex. I’m pretty sure that if Garnet is pinning me down and riding me, or even if she’s telling me what to do to fuck her the way she likes, that she’s still the dominant one even if I’m the one who happens to have the cock at the moment.

All this nonsense about dominance and submission and gender being inherent, unchangeable qualities of penetration/being penetrated is the sort of thing that keeps people from getting what they want. And really, what I truly believe more than anything else in the world about sex, is that everyone should be able to talk about and ask for what they want regardless of the cultural baggage around the act they want to do or the role they want to fill. In my ideal world, there would be no overwhelming pressure to conform to roles, no “I’m a dominant guy, and I want to be fucked in the ass, but obviously I can’t” or “I’m a feminine woman, and I don’t like being penetrated, but I guess I have to be in order to have sex,” and no one would ever, ever ask “Which one of you is the woman?” And I’m just barely scratching the surface here, I’m not even really touching on how incredibly fucked up it is that things and even sexual acts that are coded as feminine are also automatically assumed to be weak, and soft, and submissive, and inferior. Even the fucker-fuckee language that I’ve been using in this post is really kind of awful, despite the fact that a lot of the time it turns me on.

There’s a scene in another book that I love, a porny book (Safe Word by Molly Weatherfield), where Jonathan, the dominant, masculine, thus-far-assumed-to-be-hetero character, has just had his shoes polished by Randy, a pretty male slave, and he decides that he wants to be fucked in the ass. So he orders Randy to do it, in a very particular way, warning that if there’s any shoe polish on the sheets Randy will be punished. It’s a really hot scene, and no one in the book makes any sort of comment about Jonathan being any less dominant because of it.

And I’m not saying that playing with gender and power during sex is wrong or bad, just that it should be a thing consciously decided upon by all the involved parties, not an assumed default that is automatically a part of a given act. If you want to be fucked because it makes you feel like a lady and that’s something you want to explore then you should totally explore that! But make sure your partner[s] are on the same page, don’t assume it’s an automatic thing.

What it all boils down to is that I believe everyone should be able to have sex how they want, with who they want (obviously within the bounds of consent), without it meaning anything that the people involved with it don’t want it to mean. A particular act is not truly, automatically, inherently dominant or submissive or masculine or feminine unless the participants in said act decide to make it that way, and claiming that things are limits and invalidates so many people and their identities. It also reinforces the idea that masculine and feminine, dominant and submissive, gay and straight are binary, polar opposites instead of points on a larger continuum and everything is always, definitely one or the other, a yes or a no, a 1 or a 0. And I hate, hate, hate when anyone tries to dictate to someone else what their desires must mean about them.

Roderick and I are doing Couch to 5k. Theoretically. In that every once in a while we say to ourselves “Huh, we should go running,” and then do, like, week 1 day 1 of the C25k program over again. We did this last night, and hilarity ensued. Here are our fitness tips, so that you can stay “in shape” (whatever the fuck that means) like Roderick and me:

1. Come home from work and have sex. Bonus points if someone holds a knife (blunt edge only!) to someone else’s throat while fucking.

2. Finish with sex and notice the condom slipped off sometime before Roderick came. Swear a little bit. Decide that since you were going running anyway, now you might as well run to the 24-hour CVS for some emergency contraception.

3. Eat some delicious Annie’s macaroni and cheese, then start badgering Roderick to get ready to go running. (Some of you may have noticed that there is a problem here. Trust me, I realized it, too, just a little later.)

4. Hear Roderick scream “NOOOOOOOOOOO!” from the bathroom. Panic. Ask if he’s okay. Find out he dropped his iPhone in the toilet.

5. Finally both get dressed and get out the door.

6. During the warm up walk, have a conversation with Roderick about his ongoing attempts to explain polyamory to his mother. It is both cringe-inducing and hilarious at the same time.

7. Start running. Run past your friend’s house while still having loud conversation about hilaristurbing misunderstandings with Roderick’s mom. He reaches the punchline about his mom asking “Do all three of you have sex together?”

8. Laugh uncontrollably. Laugh so hard you literally almost fall over while running. Get a stitch in your side and chest pains from laughing and running.

9. Run. Walk. Run. Walk. Basically, do what the commanding voice on the C25k app says.

10. At 11, the alarm on your phone goes off reminding you to brush your teeth. (Yes, I realize actual grown ups remember to do this without an alarm on their phone.) This alarm is now going off RIGHT IN YOUR EARS thanks to your headphones. Pull your phone out of your stylish fanny pack to turn off the alarm.

11. The alarm won’t turn off, because your phone is a piece of shit and you’ve dropped it too many times. Now you have to run again.

12. Walk. Drop your phone on the sidewalk while raging at it for not working. Yell “MOTHERFUCKER!” at top volume. Get pointed at accusingly by random passerby. Finally turn off alarm.

13. Notice you have a text from Garnet asking if it’s cool with you if she participates as a top in a fist-a-thon. Try to respond, but it’s time to run again!

14. Walk. Answer the text. Notice that you feel like your going to throw up and collapse, perhaps simultaneously. Three more runs left!

15. Reach the CVS! But you still have two more runs! Run down the street away from CVS. Circle back upon starting 5 minute cool down walk. Notice that you feel weak and shaky all over, in addition to increasing nausea. Drink all the water.

16. Go in CVS and ask the pharmacist for emergency contraception. Hand over your ID and collapse in a chair while Roderick buys that and allergy meds. Hear him try to explain “We ran out here…” The pharmacist responds “You ran? What did you do to her!?” then laughs.

17. Your workout is complete! Take the train home and take your pills! Also, swear that you will never go running immediately after eating dinner again.

A while ago a friend of mine started a group on FetLife for folks who feel like they don’t fit in elsewhere. One of the lines in the group description is “Too straight for the gays or too gay for the straights?” And when I joined this group, I went through a whole self-doubt thing where I wasn’t sure if I belonged there, since I’m not switchy or gender queer or any number of other things. I was just this weird, submissive girl who couldn’t figure out her sexual orientation.

And sexual orientation is hard to figure out. There are people out there who yell and scream that you can’t call yourself “queer” if you’re a lady with a boyfriend, or who primarily dates dudes. And for a long time it did feel like to identify as queer would be kind of appropriative for me, since I was benefiting from all kinds of hetero privilege when my only serious relationship was with Roderick. I don’t like the term bisexual, and pansexual has some weird associations for me as well, so I identified as “not-straight” (and it turns out defining your identity as not-something can make you feel pretty shitty sometimes). Then I identified as “slutty” (and it turns out trying to reclaim a word you’re still not over the negative implications of can also make you feel pretty shitty, which deserves its own post). And now, I’m madly in love with both Roderick and Garnet I most of the time just shrug and mumble that I don’t really know what I am.

But I feel like that one line from that group description “Too straight for the gays or too gay for the straights?” has started describing pretty much my whole life. I feel isolated and awful and like I don’t fit in with my straight friends (many of whom are holdovers from college who still think rape jokes are funny, though again this may need its own post), I have reached a point where when I go to the movies I look at commercials and trailers and feel like so much of pop culture has nothing to do with my life, but I get looked at askance by people when I use the word queer, and not just about myself. I present pretty femme-y, and I, y’know, have a boyfriend, so I often get the sense that I’m not welcome in queer spaces and that people think I’m being horrible and appropriating an identity that I haven’t earned somehow, despite the fact that I am just attracted to, and fall in love with, people regardless of their gender. Which is, y’know, not the only aspect of queerness…but it seems like the easiest one to relate to the rest of this post.

This whole post is turning into a giant list of things I need to write longer posts about later.

I actually started this post last week, and thought about deleting it. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized I had to say on the subject. The whole thing I posted last night, about D/s and gender, is a part of this, and my frustration at feeling like outside our own tiny sex-positive, kinky, inclusive and accepting corner of New York City and the internet there just isn’t any place I feel like I or many of my friends fit in. The awful sex-negativity and enforced gender roles and heteronormativity that are out there everywhere are all a part of it, too. Hell, even the way I’ve been looking in the mirror lately and been able to say that, even though I’m not the thinnest I’ve ever been I look really hot sometimes is a part of it. And I do feel like I’m not entirely entitled to angst about not fitting in–it could be so much worse, and there are so many people who have it so much worse than I do. But not fitting in most places still hurts a little. And I don’t know what to do with that, or how to fix it.

So as I mentioned in my last post, Garnet and I are about to start for realz maid training. As always when embarking on a new project with Garnet, I’m really excited and wildly turned on and this is basically a fantasy of mine made reality. I want to please her so much that sometimes it scares me a little.

Since we’re working on establishing rules and routine, and all this is currently in the research phase, I offered to do some online research and see if I could find any training resources that might be useful. I actually think I said when I volunteered that I’d “see if I can find anything that’s not really creepy and might be useful,” but I was unprepared for the creepy depths of creepiness out there.

I knew that just Googling “submissive training manual” or whatever the exact words I typed in were (it was something along those lines) was going to bring up some scary stuff…but at least the first three websites I pulled up were all about how You (often actually capital “y” You), Mister Domly Masterpants, can easily train Your submissive. Who, it is assumed, is always female. Several sites used the words “submissive” and “girl” interchangeably. One, written by a submissive woman, which looked hopeful at first ended up concluding that submission was a way to let women “take a break from the pressures of ‘equality’ and ‘liberation’.” I seriously almost hit the ceiling, I was so surprised and upset by all this nonsense. And this isn’t even counting all the super-creepy sites about “training your wife to be submissive” that I scrolled right on past, but which I could see from their little blurbs on Google seemed to largely involve sneakily, nonconsensually “training” someone. Or, you know, what the rest of us call “abuse.”

I’m not saying there is anything inherently wrong with a Maledom/femsub dynamic. If you are a heterosexual domly dude or submissive lady, it may, in fact, be the best option for you! And I know plenty of people who have exactly this sort of relationship, including a few who do full-on, 24/7 slavery, and who couldn’t be happier about it. It was through this sort of dynamic with Roderick that I started sorting out that I was kinky. Where we run into problems is when people start assuming that absolutely every D/s relationship needs to conform to this model. It’s hugely fucked up when this is assumed to be the default, for lots of reasons.

1. Consent is really important. Seriously. There is pretty much nothing more important than consent in any sort of sexual relationship. And if we start assuming that all women are inherently submissive, that they just need a strong, dominant man to take control and show them what they really want, that every women secretly wants to be “released” from the supposed pressures of equality and liberation…well, that certainly doesn’t leave any room for dominant women, or vanilla women, or switchy women. And it dangerously implies that their consent doesn’t matter, because of course they just haven’t met the right man to dominate them yet.

2. This kind of assumption erases a lot of people and their identities. If all women are inherently submissive, and all men are inherently dominant…well…hello, gender binary. Where does this leave gender queer folks? Or non-binary-identified trans* people? Just the assumption that everyone is clearly either a man or a woman is pretty hugely fucked up, let alone then going on to say that every woman or man automatically fits into a prescribed D/s role. And what about queer people? Are queer or gay or lesbian or bi people just not allowed to do D/s?

3. Equating gender roles with D/s roles ignores and devalues a lot of people’s kinks. This is so not as big of a deal as the other two things listed above, but it’s still awful and shitty. When we assign domliness and submissiveness along gender roles, we not only reinforce ideas that women are inferior, that to be feminine is inferior, but it leads to other assumptions, like that all submissives are weak and meek little doormats (which is not necessarily true for everyone) or that all submissive men are somehow “feminine” and inferior to “real,” dominant men. So it kind of messes things up for, say, people who get off on submitting or dominating in in ways that fuck with gender. Or even for male submissives who want to be dominated by femme-y ladies. Or for two femme-y or masculine people who want to do D/s stuff together.

I’m just so tired of all of this, and to have it all pop up when I was looking things up for Garnet was so jarring and disappointing. So many of the stuff out there about D/s is just abusive, strict conformity to outdated gender roles, and it bears so little resemblance to the ridiculous joy I feel in choosing to submit that it makes me incredibly sad. It also frustrates me as both a feminist and a submissive-type, since this is what comes up when you Google this stuff, there are people out there who are going to find this and think that this is all there is in the entire huge, diverse world of BDSM. This sort of crap is why so many people think I can’t be both submissive and a feminist.

The only good thing about this is that I feel like it gives me a reason to blog as much as possible. I was so doubtful when I started this. Would anyone read it? Does my voice really matter? Right before I started blogging again, I saw a tweet that said something to the effect of “Does the world really need another blog from a submissive about their ‘journey’?” And, well…yeah. I guess it does. We need more blogs from people who don’t think D/s breaks down neatly along gender lines, people who know that there are switches and queer people and gender non-conforming people in the world. People who think you can penetrate someone as an act of service or enjoy being fucked and still be a dom, and people who want to break down definitions and walls and assumptions. I’m trying to maybe be one of those people. We also definitely need more blogs written by people who aren’t straight, white, cisgender maledoms and femsubs, and I’m certainly not saying I can speak for everybody (especially since I am white and cis and often appear to be hetero), but I do like to think that I am adding just a little something that wasn’t there before by blogging.